It's a Gift
by Lulz4dayz
Summary: Harry grows up living with the Dursleys. Instead of the canon 'Potter has an inherently good soul/morals' and all that bologna, in this fanfic Harry grows up as a complete douche. I mean, who can blame him, with his role models. Fortunately for us, he's a pretty funny douche. Neville is the Boy Who Lived. Rated M because it could possibly be T. Drugs, violence, sex, more drugs...


'Knock, knock!' The door creaks slightly as Hagrid's massive body soars off into the distance unnoticed. The next morning, the door opens slightly. A pair of guarded, slanted eyes look left. Then right. The left. Then down. Petunia stared completely sure this is some sort of perverted joke, probably by one of the neighbors. Cretins, the whole lot of them.

"Vernon!" Pertunia furiously shouted inside.

The man in question waddled up to the door, mustache twitching as he sipped his Sunday morning coffee. "Tuni?" He asked. Then he saw.

On the doorstep was a blue-tinged baby, not even crying because it was so cold. At first, the couple thought it had frozen to death.

"Half the damn neighborhood probably saw him by now, no way to hide it." Petunia tells her husband. "Best just take it inside and pretend we care about it" And pretend they did. That is, until they read the letter the baby was laying. Petunia looked at the damnable thing.

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,  
_ _Young Harry's parents are unable to  
_ _raise_ _him,_ _please take him in. Make  
_ _sure_ _he gets_ _a proper upbringing.  
_ _Sincerely,_

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

"Oh we'll give him a 'proper upbringing' alright," Vernon growled out of is clenched teeth, trembling in rage, face contorted in that angry purple color that hasn't quite been named yet, with that bulging vein in his forehead throbbing relentlessly.

And so the young boy's childhood went...

* * *

On Harry's fourth birthday, his guardians gave him his first gift. Chores. Everyday from then on out, he was to weed his aunts garden; everyday from then on out, he was to make breakfast; everyday from then on out, he was to wash, dry and fold all of the houses clothes. Later that night, Harry overheard his Aunt and Uncle talking in the kitchen. Harry doesn't realize how much this single conversation shaped his childhood.

"... but I don't want anyone thinking we are doing anything to the boy!"

"Pet, calm down. Rather that beat his unnaturalness out of him... why don't we work it out of him?"

"As long as you promise not to get out of hand..., I can see nothing wrong with that."

* * *

On Harry's sixth birthday, Vernon takes him aside and speaks with him.

"Boy, have I ever told you about my boxing career?"

"No, sir."

"I was the best boxer for my weight class in all of England in my senior year. I've told Dudley this, and he wants to follow my footsteps. I'll give you a deal, you be Dudley's sparring partner, and I'll let you have his spare bedroom." Harry looked up from where he was staring on the ground, hardly believing his ears. He hadn't ever actually slept in a bed before. On impulse, Harry agreed.

One week later, Harry and Dudley panted as they jogged around the block, both boys still young and impressionable. Dudley, unable to see the resentment his parents held for magic, and in extent, Harry, allowed the bond to forge between Harry and himself. The bond of blood, sweat, tears, hardship and eventually friendship. The boys returned the Privet Drive sweaty and smelly. Aunt Petunia took one look at them, and ushered Dudley into the kitchen. Harry just went into the garden to finish his weeding. An hour later, Harry walked inside, covered in dirt. Dudley was still in the kitchen, and when Harry walked in, Dudley's nose crinkled.

"You smell awful."

"Yeah, but I feel hungry."

Dudley looked up, "I saved you half of my sandwich." Harry's hand froze above the fridge door. "I couldn't finish it by myself, and it would be a waste to throw it away." Harry turned slowly, and sat next to his cousin.

"Th-thank you!" Having never been offered a sandwich before, Harry was extremely grateful.

"Don't thank me yet," Dudley smiled, but not maliciously, "we haven't started boxing yet, and I don't want my opponent to excuse his losses to hunger."

"As if!" Harry exclaimed, taking a big bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly. And Harry's new favorite food.

* * *

"Come on Dudley!" Vernon bellowed loudly as Harry and Dudley sloppily circled each other. It was a close match, with Harry landing more punches, but Dudley's punches hitting harder. Harry lightly jumped from foot to foot in order to keep his balance, and be ready to dodge. And then Harry saw it. An opening in Dudley's defense as Dudley staggered to the left. He reached for it, and then saw Dudley's eyes flash and torso turn. And then it was black.

"Errlllggghhhh."

"I thinking he's waking dad," a familiar voice said loudly. Or maybe that was just the pounding headache.

A gruff voice responded. "Get up boy! Now both of you, drop and give me twenty!" Harry groaned and rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the throbbing pain which completely covered his torso and right shoulder and left cheek. And then started his reps. Five. Arms are shaking. Nine. Head is pounding. Twelve. Shoulder has almost given out. Fifteen. Tears are coming out now. Seventeen. Harry falls to the ground and loses consciousness again.

* * *

Harry is eight now, while Dudley is fourteen; somehow, they've actually become very close. Harry's only friends were Dudley, Piers, Dennis, Gordon, and Malcolm, and as happens to many highschoolers, those six decided to experiment together... with drugs. More specifically: weed.

Around this time, Uncle Vernon also made Harry do jobs around the neighborhood for cash. Harry wasn't bothered, as he was allowed to keep _half_ of his earnings. Harry knew exactly what he was going to do with his cash. And it didn't involve saving it. Or following the law.

Later that night, Dudley and Harry sat in the kitchen, Vernon and Petunia having already gone to sleep.

"H-h-holy SHIT!" Dudley gasped out between bouts of laughter. "Did you see the look on his face? And those eyes... he looked like he got stuck in the fucking washing machine."

Harry joined in the laughter. "How was I supposed to know he'd rub his hand in his damn eyes? See, it's all his fault!"

Dudley smirked. "Well maybe if you'd have used _shaving cream_ like we said, we wouldn't have had to have given him eye drops."

"Please, toothpaste works just as well. I think it was your fault, instead of _tickling_ his face with a feather, you sat there rubbing a pillow on his face. Besides, eye _drops_?" Harry started laughing again. "You opened the lid and poured the whole bottle onto his forehead!"

"It's not my fault his head was moving so much."

"Hate to break it to ya, but he wasn't shaking as much as you're arm was! I'm surprised you managed to stand up, let alone pour eye drops onto his forehead."

"Yeah, well at least I wasn't the reason he was out cold."

"Hey, he was the one who wanted to box! Don't pin this on me, s'not my fault he's got the build of a stick. And the athleticism of one, too, for that matter."

"He only wanted to box because you text his mom to pass the blunt!"

"I thought it said blunt person!?" At this, both boys began laughing again.

"It said _Bonnie Polkiss,_ dumbass!" _  
_

"At least I could identify some of the letters. I'm pretty sure you were the one who called mattress firm asking for a large cheese pizza with stuffed crust!" More laughs.

"You have to admit, that would be a catchy sales pitch: 'get a **full** night of rest!'"

Both boys got themselves some Funyuns. "Hey Dud, you smell like shit."

"You look like shit."

Pretending not to hear, Harry squints at the light above the table. Both boys stumbled off to brush their teeth, before going to bed

* * *

Unfortunately for Harry, the very next day, he had school. Walking into school, Harry's headache intensified. He took a long swig of water, he came prepared. _Ring_ , the late bell rang. 'Oh shit!' was the only thing on his mind as he sprinted to his classroom.

"On time, as usual Mr. Potter." The teacher said nonchalantly, tapping his finger on the desk.

"Uh, sorry sir, I got lost." The teacher froze.

"Are you telling me that after attending this school for three years, you simply got _lost?"_

"Erm, yes, sir."

"Very well. Don't let it happen again." Harry gave a sigh of relief as he slunk of to his seat.

Later that class period...

'zzzzzzzzzzz.' Harry slept fitfully.

"Mr. Potter, I asked you a question!" Harry shook his head and squinted towards the board.

"One?"

"This is _English_ class! I'm astounded you're grades are as good as they are when all you seem to do in school are eat, sleep, and 'get lost'."

Harry face twisted into a lopsided grin, "it's a gift."


End file.
